Processing Aloneness and the Pain of Others,
Which is My Pain Too And I
Am Blessed Enough to Taste It,
Bitter and Sweet, Like Rich Hot Cocoa
And Burnt Roof of Mouth;
La Dulce Culpa.
By Marval A Rex
There is only so much you can do.There is this breath.There is this moment.We as this species are built to believe we know.Right now we think we know.
I sit here, embroiled in my own emotional wave.Also attune to the other that is myself.And I think I know.
The truest wisdom I’ve heard so far(and I just cleaned out my waxy ears literally, so my hearing is more clear)Is that you can’t truly know anything.The trick, the dance:
It’s about having boundaries when you feel that there areNo boundaries betweenanything and anyoneAnd the terror of that truismKeeps us all thinking thatWe know.
I’ve seen two people become oneI’ve witnessed swaths of people act and breathe as oneI’ve felt this species as one.
And yet our mind runs us around the track and shen-pas andShit storms all overthe unification paradeThe consolidated danceThe everything messinessThat our brain even prescribes itAs mess
When it is our brain that is run amok.And I know that all the hateful, distrustful, saddened wordsOf everyone everywhere,All the people who distrust youDistrust themselves
Don’t have their brain in order.
And let all the genius truths of their body be distortedBy the mind and letthe brain build
A castle of defenses and supposed truthsAnd blame the otherAnd feel resentmentOut of their own sense ofInternal chaos
Further muddied by the shit slinging mind out-of-boundsThe mind is not inherently evilNothing isNothing is inherently anythingOur minds have created evil
As a response to information from our bodies.
Our minds give words and the wordsHold weightAnd sometimes these words
can weigh us down.
Sometimes we chain ourselves to wordsWords chain themselves to us, clandestinelyWhen we think we have freed our self.When we think we have it rightWe crucify ourselves with the smugness reservedOnly for the Mind.
Amazingit’s amazing!Awe-some,To evoke Awe.The complexity is the majestyOf kinesiology.The kinesiology of God,Our truly weighted word forSheer luminescent brilliance,As prescribed by the Christians.
Felt by all,
Even when in deep deep denialFor darkness darkens your mindAnd crumples the bodyBut the awesome-ness exists onIn your fecundityBrighter than everWaiting
For your mind to grow weakWhile the body grows even weaker.It waitsLicking itself to a shimmering bold hueuntil you breakAnd then grants you releaseAs some form of death.
Sometimes our bodies follow along with this deathAnd we mourn for the changeWe don’t understand.
I’ve seen some darkness.I’ve gone down into places,Which allows for my beaconMy lighthouse ringing near and farTo expose more of my shadow.
They’re handsome, devilishToothy and well dressedIvory skin and like every gauntAnd banal vampire of every romance novel ever
But actually a phantomWho craves music firstBlood secondLove third.
What do you see?Its an amorphous movementBut can become anything,Your shadow.It will tell you thingsYou need to know
What do you see?
In reparations for myAllegiancemy bleak shadowness gifts me:
My light grows bright.For I’ve embraced darknessknown darknessFelt darkness andSuccumbed to the blackOf my night, your nightAnd the world’s night.I’ve turned every sound offAnd violently torn my eyesApart in the deep silenceOf inverted mass.
I have been gifted with the darknessThe drowning loudness of deathAnd in its shamanimity
That has groped me tenderlyI have been givenThe eyes of others.To see their painTheir worldsTheir hurtsTheir discrepanciesTheir dislocated tendenciesTheir flashing pastsTheir tone all the way down to thebloodlines
And my broken inner childClimbing the mountain of its newBodice, no dislocations thereAsks and call for one slice ofWeighty words:
“I don’t understand,But I want to. I want to try toUnderstand you”
If I look to understand youI come to see more of myself,Us broken angels, someOf us don’t want to understand ourselvesOut of our broken bottomnessOut of the shardsWe refuse becausethey sting on the reuptake
And even thenEven momentarily fused toAnother’s brokennessA reflection of my own stained brittlenessI am still grasped by the beautyBroken or whole
Because it is all mineAll of it is in meAnd I am in allBasic basic basicIt’s been said beforeThe mind comes in and judges and analyzes and takes all apart
But it doesn’t make it any less trueAnd logic loses hereSo I don’t spend time focusing on the A or B or CI focus on my loveMy listeningAnd my surrenderingTo my momentYour momentAnd the broken to wholeAnd the just plain broken
And the plain glorious whole ofAll of itWith holiness in sight,
Because it is wholly holy no matter whatYou think.Caving in,I will offer you a handI will listenAnd try to understand.I will try I will try.Even when I can barely handle my own depthOf the summit of my sadnessAnd the whispers of my psyche take over meAnd consume and frighten me intoA shivering child whoseFear is of its ownWrongdoing.
Marval,You did nothing wrong.The wrongness is a judgementBased on an illusionCreated by a mechanismInfiltrated with fearAndMisunderstanding.
How do I release the Movie?Focus on the beauty.Focus on the Love.Focus on the Art and the TruthAnd the soft purr of cat cheek on my armAnd the softness availableIn every touch.
And the connecting and blurring with others.Focus on self gratitude and self care.And creative loving, living.Don’t act out of mental fear,
Sit and wait andwait to respondAnd fall inLove
With your generator,Your holy turbine of trumpetingHeralds.Fall in love with your vesselAnd the mind will quiet andServe a dull textureAnd lose its weighty wordsAnd beg you to come backEven if it's a back to come with aBody full and presentAnd as the center console of yourDoing.
My design is to empower andProvide supportWhen it is your design and when it is your auraOthers will react as they doDepending on their stage where theyMay or may not dance with their darknessI have so far to go I feelBut it is excitingThe challengeAnd it is rewarding
My heart croons to me.And one day my hunger will lessenMy thoughts will gain buoyancyAnd will fade when need be
And I won’tTreat anyoneAnywayJust because my pain is weedling me around it’s little thumb
I will know all my pain,And be open to knowing its newnessAs it rises each morningFor layers grow like skinAnd layers scar over for revisitationThe raised resuscitations of whimpering memoryScars are legacy.
And I am nothingNothing and a q/hero:So I keep on keeping alongFloating down the riverTrying to find the strategy
In a swift paddle move here and thereTo graciously kiss the space betweenMyself and jagged rockAnd love the riverAnd surrender to the jetting streamAnd open myself up
To the deep dull sadnessAnd explosive almost violent joyThat is caught in every swingOf river bend andPaddle sweep.
I am RiverI am BirdI am Marval,Marvel of neux-nessOf spiralling presence thatAnnounces full and bright
“I am Now”I am NowI am here NowI am here Now DoingI am Myself here Now DoingI am Myself here Now Doing and I’m Busy
Busy empowering and supportingMyself and othersAnd surrenderingTo this wild wild ride.
What a Long Strange Trip It’s Been.